A Most Unusual Angel
by Experimental Madness
Summary: Meg has a brush with death, but lives! Guy may yet learn how to love again. Both will find the strength to stand up to those who have always sought to pull them down.
1. The Runaways

**I have always wanted to say this!!!! Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. No character is my own. Oh save for the few random minor OCs who serve the plot, but I DO NOT OWN ANY CHARACTER! Robin Hood and all characters from that show belong to the BBC  
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**This is my protest fic. I defy you BBC! Canon, thy name is Guy/Meg.

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I

The Runaways

The fierce, stinging sound of Robin's arrow whipping through the air was possibly the most welcoming sound in the world. This was notably disturbing, as Guy had always attributed that sound to one that would perpetuate chaos and make his life an endless wheel of frustration. This time however, Guy dared to think he might have almost been grateful. The arrow slammed into the executioner's chest, sending his ax flying into the air. Another arrow followed by a _clang,_ signified that the ax would be sent tumbling harmlessly back to Earth. Guy started when the ax landed nearly an inch away from his face. If he didn't know Hood any better, he would have thought he had been slyly trying to execute him himself.

The Castle grounds erupted in confused shouts and the scuttling clanks of the armored Castle Guard. Isabella shouted angrily from her chair, urging her guards to launch themselves into the fray, while all the while she remained perched on high; like some furious harpy squawking at the battle, wondering at what carrion would remain for her to feast her wrath upon. Only the crazed shouts from her husband, Thornton, sought to shut the beak of her rage. She turned tail and ran like a beaten dog from the sight of her angry master. She was gone, leaving her people to run from the guards, who were still battling on without thinking.

Now was the perfect time to disappear, but he couldn't leave alone. Guy hurried over to the woman who was struggling to free herself from her bonds. She was still sniffling somewhat, although he swore he heard mute laughter underneath her frightened whimpers. She had nothing to be afraid of. She wasn't dying today. He would make sure of that. He untied the ropes binding her wrists together and the look of pure happiness she shot up at him only strengthened his resolve to get her away from Nottingham safely. It was the least he could do for her; for Meg. In an instant, this woman, had become the only thing of true value he had. He wasn't leaving her behind. He held out his hands for her to help her down the scaffold. She took hold of them willingly. When had anyone ever trusted him so much?

It happened in an instant. Immediately, the look of joy was replaced by one of panic. "Guy, look out!" She shouted, shoving him aside. She stood in front of him as a guard charged at them with a spear. Meg gave a muffled cry as the spear dug into her side. She crumpled like a leaf falling to the snow. Guy's shock and anger were concentrated into one fluid reaction. He grabbed the spear from the guard and knocked him out. He wished he could have the time to skewer the man's body with his own weapon, but he had to get away.

He bent down to grab Meg, who was by now, holding her side tightly, her face a mask of pain. "Are you all right?" He asked, but she could not speak through the shock of her sudden injury.

Without thinking, Guy hoisted Meg up into his arms and ran. He tore away from the Castle and the chaos behind him. As the shouts grew further and further away the sound of Meg's pain-filled whimpers became more and more acute. He hushed her briefly as he hurried through Nottingham Town. She wasn't dying today. He had promised himself this much.

The town was very nearly empty; everyone having gone to the Castle to watch the execution. Guy was able to flee from the town without anyone to stop him. He considered it a blessing in disguise. Or maybe it was just luck. Maybe Meg was some angel come to save him. He shifted the woman about in his arms. They would have to go to Sherwood. It was the safest place for them. There they could hide and Meg could rest before they stole away from Nottinghamshire and England entirely.

Meg's breathing was getting shallower. She had to just hold on. He would see to her wound once they were under the safety of the forest. He did not know a great deal of the healing arts, but he knew enough to make her comfortable until he could find her a physician somewhere....anywhere. It was a desperate plan, but it was all he had to work with. He would not abandon Meg, and he had promised himself that she would live.

So, he went, stumbling away towards the sanctuary of the forest. The precious bundle in his arms slowing his awkward strides, but he kept his strength. He dared not shift her about in his arms, not wishing to cause her further pain. That was when he realized she had stopped her whimpering. In fact, he could barely hear her breathing.

"Meg!" He called her name anxiously, his eyes darting down the path, his stride never once breaking.

There came a thin groan and he felt Meg turn her head so that it was pressed against his chest, "Yes...m'fine...."

"Won't be long now," he assured her, "Once we reach Sherwood we can rest--Meg?!" She had gone rather limp in his arms.

"Please..." she whimpered in pain before sucking in air to let out a rattling laugh, "stop bloody shouting...at me..."

The gentle taunt caused Guy to smile faintly. Such a strong and unlikely angel. He stole a quick moment to glance down at her. Her eyes were half shut, but she seemed to notice he was looking at her. She opened her eyes slowly, giving him an affectionate smile. Guy turned his attentions back to the road. He drew strength from her own strength. She lay injured and in pain, but she said nothing of her hurts. She trusted him. He had never seen such a pureness of affection before. It curled about whatever hollowed out remains of a heart he had within him. He walked on.

Night was already falling fast by the time Guy had just breached the clearing leading into the outskirts of the forest. He had to keep going. They were not safely hidden yet. His pace was slowing, and his legs were screaming with fatigue, but for each breath that Meg drew in, he took another step forward.

Under the cover of darkness, Guy began to look for a place to rest. He spotted a tree by the side of a creek cutting across the length of the forest. That would have to do. "Let's just rest here for a while." He said to her, willing himself to stumble as fast as he could over towards their would-be shelter.

He knelt down beside the trunk of the leaning tree, "There we go." He sighed, easing Meg down. He refused to let her go. He supported her upon his lap, his arms curled about her. He looked down to examine her wound. It was bad, but was it truly worse than he had expected, or had he been foolishly optimistic. She was bleeding heavily and already lost so much blood. He couldn't do anything for her. Cold fear gripped him. He could do nothing for her. She was going to die. It was his fault. She had put herself in harms way for his sake and he had not been able to protect her. Would there be no end to the blood upon his hands?

"Kiss me." Came the faint words of the dying girl in his arms.

Guy looked up, shocked. She couldn't have meant that. Why would she want him to kiss her? He was the reason she was dying in the first place. He was tainted. A broken wreck of a man. He could not stain her purity with his unworthy kiss. He hushed her instead, caressing her pale white face with an almost loving tenderness.

"Please..." Such hope in that simple request.

He wasn't even certain if he would know how to kiss such a one as Meg. There were no lies dancing behind her eyes. No ulterior motive, and not a trace of malice or spite. She was just a young maid. She knew not of love and she never would. She wanted him to give her what had been denied to her. He was her friend, her rescuer, and protector. He gave her a faint smile before leaning in close to her and pressing a very gentle and chaste kiss against her lips. He could feel her struggle to raise her head up to meet him, but her body would only allow the very slightest of movements.

Guy longed to keep his lips pressed against hers, but he knew he could not. He pulled away, wishing madly that he could have had more time; more time to know her, more time to understand her and thank her for what she had done for him. She would never know the miracle she had worked within him.

She smiled up at him as only a creature from heaven could upon someone so damned as he. She struggled to formulate words, "I've always quite liked you, you know..."

That was when he saw what he could not identify; the light flickering in her eyes. It was love. And it was then Guy realized he had never seen it before. _Stay with me!_ He wanted to cry out. He pressed a hand to her wound, as if willing it to seal itself and restore life to her body. That was when she turned her head very quietly and went silent and still.

He stared at Meg for a time, at first not willing to believe it. Meg lay like an angel clipped of her wings. He was the demon that had forced her to ground. Something snapped inside of him and with it the dam inside of his walled up soul forced tears to pour from his eyes. He shook, his breath hitched in his throat. He hugged the broken angel to his chest, rocking her back and forth. It was Meg he held in his arms--no it was Marian. Meg and forgiven him for his crimes in place of Marian. She had given him salvation and with each sobbing cry he felt himself washing away his guilt.

Suddenly, he felt a wave of selfish grief crash over him. Why should God take back the one soul who had restored his humanity? "W-w-wake up..." He stuttered in between his tears. His family had died, his sister had turned against him, he had killed Marian, and now...now even this one last chance at redemption was snatched away so soon. Not Meg. Not again.

A rustling in the nearby bushes, alerted Guy to the fact that someone was nearby. Perhaps Isabella's guards had finally caught up to him. Well, let them come. Let them kill him now and end it. Maybe God would take pity on him in his last moment and allow him to be with Meg again. He stilled his erratic movements, and steadied his breathing. Let them do it now, if they must. Have them come and stab him in the back, he would die holding the last creature on earth who had cared for him.

"Well?!" He shouted into the night raggedly, when there came no sharp pain of the knife, "Come and kill me then, if that is your purpose."

There was a short snort of laughter, "Now why would I be interested in killing ya?" From out of the foliage stepped a stooped and warped figure. An old woman hobbled her way out of her hiding place, gripping a stoat oaken staff with both of her hands as she walked. She wore a black cowl about her eyes were gray with age.

Guy's focus wavered as soon as he realized he was in no danger of dying. He was almost disappointed. The woman tapped her staff upon the leaves scattered about the ground, "Your friend is in sad shape, surely."

"Leave me be." Guy snarled.

"Leave ya be?" The woman cackled, "'Tis not my fault ye walked onto my land. Can't leave ya be. Be you in need of help?"

Guy did not even look over at the woman to snap at her, he kept himself buried against Meg's body, not wanting to uncurl himself yet. "Not unless you can bring the dead back to life." He muttered brokenly, feeling more tears racing through him. He could not stop them now, no matter if he felt shame over shedding them before a stranger.

"An' who says I can't?" The woman cackled again stumping forward upon her staff. "An' who says yer friend is dead? Been watching ya from behind the bushes. Don' like strangers on my land. 'Ad t' see what ya meant marching through here as ya pleased. Ye ain't no harm t' me from what I seen."

Guy gave the woman no response. He smoothed out the curls atop Meg's head, gently caressing her. He was tempted to press a kiss against her forehead, but he need not defile her body with such an act. The sound of a knife being drawn snapped him back to attention. He looked up to see the old hag inches away from him with a small, yet sharp knife glinting in the moonlight. He let out an animal-like growl and turned Meg's body away from the weapon, shielding her with his own body.

The woman found amusement in this action for she gave another cackling laugh, "Oho, I mean yer mate no harm, ya wolf, for tha' is what ye surely are. I mean t' see if she's breathing."

For the first time Guy looked up at the woman. Meg was dead, what did she mean to see if she still breathed? Guy lessened his hold about the woman and allowed the old hag to bend down, pressing the knife up against Meg's mouth. She watched the blade with a keen eye, as she kept it tilted towards the moonlight, where the greatest amount of reflection would show where the fog of her breath would appear.

Guy sat in tedious silence, glancing up at the hag and then back towards the angelic face of Meg. His heart pounded within him as he waited, and for a moment he thought he would go mad with waiting. How dare this woman raise his dead hopes. It was enough to break his heart anew.

The hag at last withdrew the knife with a small laugh, "Aye, ya wolf, ye do right to' protect that there pretty one. She be breathing yet."

"What..." Guy could barely speak as he looked down at Meg. His eyes widening with disbelief.

"Place yer hand upon her heart." The woman encouraged.

Guy did so, searching frantically for a heartbeat he wasn't sure even existed. At long last he found it. Faint and low, not at all a good sign, but a sign all the same. "M-m-m-Meg?" He was trembling. "Meg?" The name was a prayer, he whispered it as one would whisper the name of the angels, or the name of a lover.

The brow of the young woman furrowed only slightly and her head lolled to one side. It was enough. Guy hugged her to him again, his angel was still with him! The old hag who stood beside them leaned upon her staff, nodding approvingly, "Aye, she be alive. Now...what t' do with ya...."

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**Because Meg was taken far too soon, and I think I'm partially going through a greiving phase for this lovely character who was everything I had ever been advocating for. So, here's a fic in which Meg lives. Why? Because I can't let her go that easily.  
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**As for how long this goes or what the heck I mean to do with it...well, I'll improvise as always. **

**Also, side note, go check my profile for notes on the statuses of my other fics if you're following them. And of course remember to review!  
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	2. Refuge

**I have to say, I was blown away by the amount of reviews and feedback you all gave me. Really, I'm truly grateful and I'm so very pleased that you all adore and idolize Guy and Meg just as much as I do. Thank you all so much!!!!

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II

Refuge

Meg was alive! It was miraculous, but it was as real as the heart that lay beating in the girl's chest. Guy rose to his feet, clutching her tightly to him. If he hurried he could still find her help. He was not going to be given this second chance only to see it fall to ruin. The old hag who was still hovering around them did not seem too pleased at her quarry wandering away without so much as a word of thanks.

"Now, wait a minute. Where d'ya think ye be going?" She croaked.

"To find a physician." Guy said, his voice coming out in a harsh gasp with the fading of his sobs.

The woman snorted, "A physician? Aye, go an' seek one out if ya fancy yer pretty 'un dying. Bungling fools the lot be."

The hags words stopped him in his place. "I have no choice." He said numbly, but truly this woman spoke sense. Who would help them? And even if a physician choose to assist them without turning them in; would he have the skills to help her? Many was the physician was a healer in name only, but could hardly bandage the slightest of cuts, let alone a wound as severe as Meg's. Helplessness seeped into him, and Guy did not like the feeling.

"Always a choice." The hag replied. "Bring yer pretty one t' my home an' I'll see to her myself."

"Why should I trust you?" Guy growled.

The woman gave another one of her cackling laughs, banging her staff upon the soft earth, "Ye men an' yer stubbornness. Trust me or don't, but yer pretty one'll be dead if she ain't seen to."

Defeated, Guy nodded to the old woman, "Very well then, I'll follow you." He did not trust the hag in the least, but it was not for his sake he went with her. If the woman could help Meg, he could care less what else she had in store for them.

The woman was fair pleased to have gotten her way without much of a fuss. She shuffled herself around, tapping her staff upon the earth as she moved, "Right then, right then...follow along, wolf, aye, an' keep up too."

Guy would have laughed outright at the suggestion that he could not keep up with such an old and feeble woman, but laughter was the farthest thing from his mind. He moved deeper into the forest, following the ancient woman. As he walked he found that the woman was more spry than she let on. She maneuvered her way through low hanging branches, brambles, and other obstacles of the forest. Guy found it rather hard to match her pace while still maintaining a steady hold upon Meg.

At length he found himself speaking to the unconscious woman in his arms as if she could hear him, "You'll be all right," he said, with far more confidence then he would have thought possible for him to ever believe, "I promise you that. Nearly there, now." Although in truth, he had no knowledge of where they were, or where they were heading to.

The hag was amused at the quiet, one-sided conversation going on behind her. "Ye do right in speaking t'her. Mayhap she can hear ya after all, eh?"

Guy shot the woman a glare that went unnoticed, embarrassed that she should have overheard him. The forest seemed to stretch on forever, and the night was cold. He had nothing to bundle Meg in, and already he could feel her skin becoming more and more frigid to the touch.

"Where are you taking us?" Guy finally shouted up to the woman, his voice riddled with anxiety.

"T' my home, where else, ya great fool." The woman responded, "How fairs the pretty one?"

"She's fading..." Guy admitted.

"Then 'tis well that we are here." The old woman huffed as she tapped at the rock walls of a cave deep set into the side of one of the taller hills.

Guy looked up at the cave mouth skeptically. "You mean to tell me you live here?"

"Where ye expecting a castle?" The woman cackled, "Drag yerself inside, if ye have the mind...or the nerve."

The jibe set a scowl to Guy's face and he rudely brushed passed the woman to enter the abode first. The entrance was a tight fit, and he had to crouch low to pass under the wall of rock. It was a passage way more fit for a mouse than a man. As he shuffled further into the passage he could see a faint glow up ahead. He reached the opening and found himself standing in a rather snug cavern. If Guy had been expecting the dark dankness of the underground he was quite mistaken, for the cavern walls were bathed in a orange glow. A fire danced in a makeshift stone hearth in the corner, the milky essence of the smoke curling up a carved chimney to disappear somewhere down a fine splinter in the hillside.

There was a wooden table in the center, carved rather homely, if not dedicatedly. A chair pushed up against the legs. Another oaken chair was positioned right before the hearth, a blanket draped over the seat. A set of shelves had been chiseled into the wall closest to the entry passage. They were well stocked with food and other supplies.

On two short stalagmites hung various blankets, cloaks, as well as other clothing. A bed had been converted out of a craggy gap in between the wall of the cave, there were blankets, pillows, and quilts enough to make it seem entirely comfortable. Spiraling away from the cavern-house, trailed another thin passage way into the darkness. The steady _plink plink_ of water droplets betrayed the possible existence of an underground creek or pond.

Taking in his surroundings, Guy moved to lay Meg down upon the bed. "Ye best place 'er on the table." The hag said, scuffling her way to the table in question, and pulling aside the chair. "Don' need 'er t' stain my blankets none..."

Guy did not argue, he placed Meg gentle done onto the sturdy table. The old hag, pushed him aside, an action he nearly contested, but thought better of as soon as he saw that she was no examining Meg's wound with her sharp, old eyes. Guy backed up, finding it best to let the woman work whatever miracle she intended to do. There came a beastly growl from behind him and Guy sprang away just as he felt jaws nearly snap onto his leg. He cried out in surprise. A rather large, rather annoyed black dog was standing behind him, jaws curled back in a wolfish snarl. Dark eyes, whirling bad temperedly.

"Carwyn!" The old woman shouted. "Silence, ye great oaf."

The black dog gave another bark in protest, but curled back down against his corner next to the bed. Guy stared at the dog and then at the woman, had he just met a witch's familiar? "What _is_ that?"

"Carwyn." The woman explained simply as she made her way over to the fire, pouring water from a jug nearby into a kettle resting over the flames. "He won't harm ye none, ye jus caught him sleeping." She chuckled as she busied herself gathering jars and vials from her shelves, as well as a few bandages. "Right bully 'e is, but I feed 'im so he stays with me."

The woman was mad. The dog was nearly as big as a wolf, in fact, Guy could readily believe that the dog was a wolf. He took two steps away from the dog, eyeing the sleeping beast warily as he did so. A loud ripping sound recalled Guy's attention. The woman had torn a strip of Meg's dress away, exposing her wound properly. She was grumbling to herself as she began to clean it.

"You," She remarked, not turning around to glance at Guy, "See to that water, tell me when it's come 'round to a decent heat."

Guy went over to the fire, watching as the kettle was tickled by the leaping flames. He glanced back to the old woman and to Meg. The woman had a stern expression on her brow, but there was an air of confidence to her movements, as if she believed that she was treating nothing more serious than a scratch. This soothed Guy's own anxiety, and he went back to watching the kettle and the fire. After a minute or two, Guy tentatively withdrew the kettle from the flames. Removing the lid, Guy dipped a finger inside to test the water. It was quite warm, but not scalding.

"How is it, then?" The woman asked.

"Warm." He replied, "Is...is that good enough?" He despised not understanding anything of what the woman was doing.

"It'll 'ave t' do." The woman grunted, "Bring it here."

Guy did so, standing awkwardly to one side as the woman dipped the cloths into the water, only to press it to the wound. "The hot water cleans it." She explained, "The last thing we need is for the wound t' get infected."

"Why are you telling me this?" Guy barked.

The woman grinned at him with snaggle-toothed smile, "'Cause ye looked like ye wanted t' know." She laughed as Guy glowered at her.

A needle was held up as thin thread was struck through the eye. In the fire's glow it appeared an almost wicked sight. "Hold the pretty one's 'and." She commanded.

"Why?" Guy asked.

"This will be painful."

"But, she's unconscious. She shouldn't feel anything." Guy pointed out.

"Unconscious? Aye, she be, but she ain't numb. Whatever pretty dreams are dancing in that pretty head 'o hers should be left undisturbed, eh?"

Guy looked down at Meg. The fire light added a radiance to her pale face and her auburn hair fell about her head, framing that snow white skin with a gentle fiery glow. She looked so peaceful. His hand sought hers almost unconsciously as he stared down at her. From out of the corner of his eye he saw the woman thread the needle into the broken skin. Guy gave her hand a light squeeze. As the woman worked on stitching Meg's wound closed, it became increasingly obvious that whatever blissful peace Meg had been experiencing was being infringed upon. Her brow furrowed and her head turned from one side to the next. She let out a thin moan, but her eyes never opened.

With his other hand, Guy caressed her face, his fingers lightly brushing back the hair from her brow. He hushed her gently, inadvertently hushing his own worry for her. After a time, her discomfort seemed to fade away, and the serene expression returned to her face once more. She let out a small sigh, "Guy..."

An almost indiscernible smile passed over his face as the sound of his name left Meg's lips. He wanted to respond to her, but he felt overly protective of his own emotions in the face of the strange woman's presence. He merely remained holding her hand, gripping it with upmost care, as if it was the most fragile and beautiful thing in the world and he was afraid of breaking it.

With the stitching completed, all that was left to do was bandage her. Before reaching for the bandages, the old woman smeared a poultice over the wound. "For the pain, an' t' ward off infection. Don't need my handiwork going sour overnight." She clicked her tongue in the back of her throat as she began to gently bandage Meg's abdomen. Once finished she nodded to herself as she began to put away her supplies.

"That's all?" Guy called out, feeling that there must be more she could do for her.

"Time'll do the rest, wolf." The woman answered, "If she makes it through the night, it'll be a blessing."

"If?!" Guy couldn't hide the sudden panic in his voice. "I thought you said you could heal her!" He turned his panic into a useless rage directed towards the woman.

"Aye, an' I did the best I could do fer her. Shouting at me won't make yer pretty one any better." The woman chastised Guy as she would a small boy. Seeing that he looked rightly put in his place again, she changed her tone, "Ye should rest up."

"I don't need sleep." Guy grunted.

"No, ye don't." The woman humored his ill tempered mood, "But yer pretty one is going t' need ya if she wakes on the morrow. If nothing, rest for her sake."

The woman approached him and tried to direct him to the bed, but Guy shrugged her away, making his point clear that he meant to stay by Meg's side. "Fine, then." The woman sighed, grabbing the chair and bringing it to him, "Suit yerself."

Guy seated himself in the wooden chair, all the while keeping a hold of Meg's hand. He would not let go, he was as one adrift at sea, if he let go of her, he would be lost again. For a while all he heard echoing about the cavern was the crackling flames. Even the old woman grew silent as she made her way to her bed.

It became hard to keep his eyes open much longer. The days events had finally caught up with him and he was reminded of his fatigue. He could feel his limbs shake with exhaustion. He couldn't keep his head up anymore, he leaned over the table, resting his head just next to where Meg lay. He fancied he could hear her heartbeat, steadier than it had been before and getting stronger. He smiled a bit, just before closing his eyes, the sound of Meg's heartbeat soothing him to sleep.

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**A/N: The mystery surrounding the old woman will be explained, as well as that of her wolfish comapanion, Carwyn. **

**Oh and I'm not letting Guy and Meg skip off to a wonderful sunset so easily. *Evil grin* I have a few tricks up my sleeve.  
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	3. The Hunter and the Hunted

III

The Hunter and the Hunted

Guy was awoken by the crackling sound of flames. He blinked open his eyes, raising his head from the table. The old woman was hunched over her hearth, rekindling the fire. The cave entrance was bathed in a slim gray light from the foggy morning outside, but as soon as the fire was started, the warm orange glow filled the cavern once more.

He looked down at Meg, she lay as still as ever, but the sickly pale color was leaving her face. She looked as if she was merely sleeping. The old woman turned about a bit, "A good morning t' ya, wolf." She said, her aging voice tinged with amusement.

"What time is it?" Guy asked, his voice raspy with sleep.

"Just after dawn." The woman scuttled from the fire place, holding a wooden bowl in her hands. "Here," She handed him the bowl, "Drink this."

"I'll not have that. It doesn't appear to be fit for a dog." Guy growled stubbornly at the woman's offering.

She merely cackled, "Carwyn might disagree with ya." She gestured to the great black beast who was currently curled up into a ball of fluff by the fire. "He likes my cooking just fine. Now drink this, while I see t' yer pretty one."

Reluctantly, Guy took the bowl from the woman. He took half a sip from it. The taste of the meager soup not terribly disagreeable to him. Perhaps it was just fit for human consumption after all. He guzzled the rest of it down, surprised at how his hunger came raging forth. Wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve he glanced at the old woman who was steadily unwrapping the bandages about Meg. The woman prodded at the stitched up wound, which still looked red and terrible, but not so inflamed. The woman gave a pleased, little grunt as she lathered more poultice over the stitches. "She be a strong 'un." She nodded as she replaced the old bandages with fresh ones, "Methinks she'll come 'round yet."

"She'll live?" Guy asked his voice hoarse with hope.

"Aye." The woman said as she took the unused bandages off down the pathway leading to the underground stream to wash them.

Momentarily alone in the cavern, Guy took hold of Meg's hand again, "I told you, you'd be all right." he whispered. He couldn't recall a time when he had felt so much blissful relief.

"Now," The old woman announced her return with a gruff clearing of her throat. She stood near the exit of the passageway, brushing her hands down her apron to clean them, "Ye can do something for me."

"What do you have in mind, old woman?" Guy snapped, quickly releasing Meg's hand.

She gave a cackling laugh and tossed him an old bow and three arrows which had been languishing near the crevice of the passage, "Ye can hunt for tonight's supper. Yer pretty one is going t' be frightfully hungry when she wakes."

"You are incapable of doing this yourself?" Guy argued, he wasn't going to tell her no, simply because he didn't want to reveal that he wanted to be there when Meg woke. He wanted to be the first person she saw when she opened her eyes again.

"Oh no," The woman laughed as she watch Guy bend over to retrieve the bow and arrows which had landed at his feet, "But 'tisn't every day I have a strong and willing, volunteer t' help me in my chores."

"You manipulative witch." Guy grumbled causing further laughter from the woman.

"Ye ain't going on yer own either," The woman gave a shrill whistle, awakening the black wolf from it's sleep, "Carwyn will accompany you." The wolf padded over to the woman, sitting himself down by her heels.

"That monster?!" Guy exclaimed, "Are you eager to see me killed, witch?"

She patted Carwyn's head gently, "He's the finest hunting companion I have ever met. An' he'll no' harm a friend o' mine."

Guy looked warily at the dark eyes of the black wolf. He felt as if the beast was eyeing him right back. "Fine." He muttered.

The woman grinned, pleased she had gotten her way, she gave Carwyn a nudge, "Ye go with him, aye? Ye wolves had best travel together."

"Will you stop calling me that!" Guy said as she slung the bow over his shoulder.

"Why should I not, eh? Ye have grown from the pup ye were, surely?" The woman smiled, her eyes twinkling with a coy light.

This question gave Guy pause, he narrowed his eyes at the woman. Why did she mean by that? "Who are you?" He asked gravely.

The woman merely nudged her head towards the exit, "Ye best be off, yer wasting daylight."

***

Carwyn bounded away into the expanse of the forest like a gleeful child no longer kept under the stern watch of a concerned parent. Guy was certain he had lost the wolf the moment he entered the sunlit forest. Blinking his eyes to adjust to the sudden shift in light, Guy realized he was part of the forest he had never been in before. He would stay close to the cave, lest he find himself lost.

Left to his own thoughts in the wood he was able to reflect on the old woman's parting words to him. She had hinted that she had known him before, and as a child too. He wracked his brain trying to figure out if he had ever seen the woman before, but no image would come to him. Perhaps because he had worked too hard to forget his childhood. It was so detached from him now that when the rare occasion arose and he did remember certain instances of his past, he thought he was viewing another man's life.

A snap of twigs had him on the edge as he quickly notched an arrow to the bow. Isabella's men? He was still a wanted man, and he had no doubt his sister would have him hunted down like a dog. He glanced around at the forest, constantly turning so that he moved in a slow circle. He found his would be assailant in the shape of dove alighting onto the forest floor. Oh, well, not a soldier. Here was something to at least bring back to the cavern. He drew back the arrow slowly taking his aim. He lowered the weapon again as a second flurry of wings and snapping twigs alerted him to the presence of a second dove. The pair walked close together. Guy stared at them momentarily. Two for the price of one? He would have to shoot fast if he didn't want to startle the second one.

A thought interrupted him once again, what if they were mates? He'd be able to kill one surely, but the other would have a significant chance of flying away to freedom. He shook his head. He was going soft; worrying about the possibility that a dove would grieve for its companion. He steadied himself and took aim again. Too late! The two doves flew up into the sky and disappeared together. Guy cursed under his breath. At this rate he would be lucky if he managed to catch anything.

A low howl broke the morning tranquility. Guy only knew of one creature responsible for such a call. He followed the sound of it, and was greeted by the sight of Carwyn, who held a rabbit clamped tightly in his massive jaws. Guy was impressed, the wolf was indeed a great hunting companion. Carwyn padded over to him, but instead of dropping the rabbit he merely sat himself down beside him and began to rip the carcass apart, devouring it himself.

"You great, selfish brute." Guy swore at the wolf. The wolf snorted as if in response and continued his meal. His teeth now gleaming with the shining stain of crimson.

The wolf made short work of his meal, the animal had proven barely scrawny enough to make a satisfying snack. All that was left of the rabbit were a few tufts of fur and a few small bones. Guy glared at Carwyn, "Well, at least one of us is satisfied." He muttered sarcastically.

He waved his hand downwards in front of the wolf, signaling for him to follow him. Carwyn growled dangerously and snapped at the hand, Guy pulled it away just in time. "Bloody monster. I swear I will shoot you here and drag your flea-ridden corpse back to the cave and have your witch of an owner boil you down until you're fit for nothing but scraps!"

Carwyn barked, Guy's tone giving off every feeling of a confrontation. Guy growled right back, causing the wolf's ears to flatten down to his head in surprise. "Getting through to you, now? Good, now march!" He shouted, pointing down the forest path ahead of him. Carwyn bounded away again at the sudden, intense urging. Guy smirked, feeling rather pleased that he had finally talked some sense into the beast--that was when he realized he had spent the better half of ten minutes arguing with a wolf.

***

Meg gave a thin groan and tilted her head to one side. Her eyelids fluttered open delicately. Where was she? She tried her best to look at her surroundings, but she could not see much, apart from a strange bed, and stone cabinet. This was most unusual setting for Heaven. Unless this wasn't Heaven. The jarring thought cause her to try and sit up, but a fiery, unbearable pain in her lower side caused her to sink back down with a whimper of pain. The flash of such pain signaled that wherever she was, she was in neither Heaven nor Hell; it certainly looked like both and none.

"Be ye awake, pretty one?" The old, raspy voice startled Meg. She looked around frantically, cursing her feeble position.

She started when she saw the face of an aging crone leaning over her. The face seemed kind at least, if not sharp and stern. The old hag smiled crookedly, "Well, well, a good morning to ye, pretty one."

She tried to speak, but found she had not the strength, and that her throat was as dry as a bone. She gestured to her throat, her arms feeling like mere string, she could not move them for very long.

"It be water yer after." The hag nodded knowingly. She brought a bowl to Meg's lips and carefully place a hand under Meg's head, easing her up a bit so that she could sip. She let out mewling protests when the water was removed so quickly.

"Not so fast, jus' enough t' wet yer mouth. You'll make yerself ill if ye drink too quickly, now." The hag chided. "Ye just rest, pretty one, ye can have more later."

The hag began to walk away, but Meg managed to grasp the hem of the woman's old, and tattered cloak. She moved her lips, desperately trying to formulate words. "G-g-guy?" She whispered. "Wh-wh-wh..."

The old woman patted Meg's hand sweetly as she placed it back upon the table, "He be out hunting, for me. Aye, an' he'll be most pleased t' see ya awake, oh yes, most pleased."

This was a satisfying enough answer for her. Meg smiled and found she had not the strength to keep her eyes open a second longer. She closed them, and sleep came without another moment.

***

The rest of the morning proved far more productive. Guy succeeded in catching two rabbits, while Carwyn trotted alongside him, holding a pheasant in his jaws. The wolf seemed rather pleased with himself and he walked back to the cave at a rather sauntering gait. Guy paused before reaching the small clearing at the cavern's entrance, Carwyn had stopped abruptly in mid-stride and his ears had perked up. What had he heard?

Quietly Guy readied his bow as he saw Carwyn drop his catch and pad quietly towards the cavern. An arrow came out of nowhere to land at the wolf's feet. The animal snarled wildly as a soldier crashed out of the trees. Carwyn lunged for the man, defending his territory. Before the man could reach for his sword, the wolf had pounced on him. He swiped at him with a clawed paw, but could find no fleshy space to sink his teeth into. Another soldier was emerging from the trees as well.

Guy fired an arrow at the hidden soldier, finding his target in the groove between the chest and shoulder plate. The man fell over, not mortally wounded, merely injured. Guy charged out of his hiding place. Those were Isabella's guards. And there were probably more of them lurking about.

Carwyn was not pleased to have his prey taken from him, but Guy ignored his growls of protest as he unsheathed the soldier's sword. Without waiting to hear any cries of mercy he pulled down the chainmail covering the guard's neck and slit his throat. Leaving the unfortunate man to die in a pool of his own blood, Guy advanced upon the fallen soldier. He received the same treatment as his counterpart. He could not afford to leave them alive. If more soldiers came, it would not just be his life he risked, but Meg's, and he would not do that a second time.

He dragged the two bodies away, further into the forest to throw of the trail and, using the borrowed sword as a shovel he covered the twin pools of blood with dirt. It was an amateurish disguise, but it was the best he could do for now. Reclaiming their forgotten prey, Guy and Carwyn made their way into the sanctuary of the cave. Guy realized for the first time how sensible it was that the old woman should have made a home out of such a place. The almost impassable entrance was enough of a determent to even the curious of searchers, he wagered. No one would ever think a snug and roomy cavern lay just ahead.

He emerged into the cavern proper. Carwyn dropped his pheasant and promptly made his way over to the hearth, where he laid himself down, stretching his hind legs luxuriously, and curled up for a nap.

"What did ya bring me?" The old woman demanded.

Guy showed her his success and the woman merely shrugged, "It'll do." Guy burned at the woman's direct ungratefulness.

"Oh," the woman said as she took the game over to her chair by the hearth, "Yer pretty one be awake."

Guy felt the strength nearly leave his legs as he dashed over to the table. He tried to still his anticipation. Meg's eyes were closed, but she appeared to be sleeping only. He placed a hand against her cheek, letting his fingers trace up and down the contours of her face. "Meg?" He whispered.

The eyelids fluttered briefly, but the movement stilled in time, "Meg?!" He called again, stronger this time.

She blinked now, opening her eyes with a tired effort. She focused in on the man standing over her. The expression her wore upon his face was that of the greatest relief mixed with that of the slightest of happiness. "Guy..." She smiled at him.

A flickering smile that wasn't sure how to be a smile, spread across his face. He was certainly some angel bent on keeping her soul intact, she marveled. She tried to move her hand to reach out for him, but found that her will had no effect on the movement of her limbs. She was too weak from blood loss to even fathom moving. Perhaps that was best, she wouldn't know what to do if she had been allowed to be held by him a second time. She certainly didn't deserve it.

"Nearly lost you." he admitted. He didn't seem to know exactly what to say to her, or how to say it.

Unable to speak, Meg rolled her eyes at him, never letting on that she had thought she was going to have to wait for him in the afterlife. Guy smirked at her and Meg wondered if all angels held such expressions of idle amusement.

She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, she had to concentrate when she wanted to speak, "Tired..." was all she could manage.

Guy nodded, "It's all right," he soothed, "You can go back to sleep."

She tilted her head towards him, feeling her consciousness fading fast, "Be here...when..."

"Yes." He said, answering her before she could finish the question, "Yes, I'll be here when you wake up."

She smiled and nodded her head slowly before allowing sleep to overtake her yet again. Guy stood over her in stunned silence. His heart was beating so rapidly he almost couldn't breathe. He thought he would never see those eyes open again. He had cheated death out of its most precious prey.

"She'll be needing the bed." The old woman said, interrupting his quiet elation. "Now that she's on the mend, she should be kept comfortable. Shift her over there."

Guy took Meg in his arms as gently as he possibly could. He turned about and laid her down upon the many blankets and quilts which made up the bed. This was a much better place for her to be resting. Guy pulled the quilts up and over her, making sure that she would be kept warm while she slept. After assuring himself that Meg would be quite all right, Guy turned to face the old woman, the tenderness and affection he had shown Meg had vanished so suddenly it was as if it had ever existed. He eyed the woman with cold curiosity and suspicion. "Now," he growled, dragging a chair over to the hearth to sit opposite of the woman, "Tell me who you really are."

* * *

**A/N: Seems both Meg and Guy are in danger of idolizing the other. Believe it or not, they will both snap out of that when they go back to realizing that they are merely human after all. XD**


	4. A Witch's Tale

IV

A Witch's Tale

The old woman raised an eyebrow at the bluntness of Guy's words. "Ye think I will be frightened by ye?" She asked him.

"I think you will tell me because I have asked." Guy said rather restrained for a man used to getting his way.

The woman shrugged, this only infuriated Guy further, "Carwyn barks his complaints at me all the time. Ye see how I listen t'him?"

Guy toyed with the sword in his hands, twirling it idly as he leaned back against the chair. His cold eyes danced in the firelight, giving him a hellish glow. He smirked, "I don't like secrets." He said flatly, "and I do not like being made to look like a fool. You claimed to know me. Tell me how, or I'll--"

The woman gave a cackling laugh, "Or what? Ye'll kill me? Oh, no, no, my wolf. Ye'll not harm me. Ye owe me a life debt."

"I owe you nothing." Guy spat.

"Ye do if ye be anything like the boy I once saw. Those ye care for ye value more than yer own life. I saved yer pretty one's life, so I saved ye as well." The woman stared directly into Guy's eyes, and her gaze was unnerving.

"I do not know you." Guy frowned, his anger giving way to the true confusion behind all of his harsh words. "How is it that you know me?"

"I will admit, I did not know ye at all until yer pretty one spoke yer name in her sleep." There was a tinge of laughter in her voice, "And when I saw how ye cared for the girl I knew I could not be wrong in my thinking."

"You're talking in riddles!" Guy snarled, growing impatient.

The woman dipped her head as if admitting that she was being purposely enigmatic. "I recall a time when I found two children alone and wandering 'bout the forest." She leaned back against the chair, her eyes closed as she brought the memory to the front of her mind's eye, "Scared an' starving waifs they were. The girl would often complain t' the young lad. Aye, an' a good lad he was. He looked twice as scared as the girl, but he never said so. I followed the two o' them for as long as they were on my land. They had no food an' no shelter an' no means to hunt for anything themselves. So, one night I thinks to myself it isn't right that two such brave waifs be out on their own. So, I gave the waifs two o' my blankets, meat from the previous days hunt, and---"

"A dagger." Guy said silently, his eyes growing wide as he recalled the curved, half-moon shaped dagger he used to always carry with him.

"Aye." The woman smiled warmly at the stunned man before her.

Guy leaned forward, his head in his hands, "That was you?" He croaked.

"Why should it not 'ave been, eh?" The woman retorted.

Yes, why not? Guy had always wondered who it was who had given him and his sister such a priceless gift. Those two blankets had kept them warm throughout their journey back to France, the food had kept their strength up until they could find their own means of providing for themselves, and the dagger had provided them with protection. Guy did not let such curiosity plague him for long. He knew of no one who would have taken pity on him and his sister and given them the necessities to survive. He placed the event in the back of his mind, where it would cease to trouble him.

"Why?" He asked, raising his head, "Why did you do that?"

"Should I have stood aside an' let ye and yer friend die?" The woman countered, "What became o' the girl anyway? The pretty one is certainly not the same child."

"My sister..." Guy said darkly, "She....went her own way."

"I see." She grunted, "Well, ye have not changed...still getting lost in forests, eh?"

"That was different." Guy said defensively.

The woman chuckled, "Ye've been lost yer whole life, I can see it in yer eyes. Ye have a way about ye, wolf, ye be a wanderer. It's as if ye don't know where t'go or what t'do."

"I know what I have to do." Guy glared at her.

"Mayhap ye do." The woman nodded, willing to agree with the angered man, "But that one," She pointed to the sleeping form of Meg on the bed, "She knows where she be bound, aye, ye stay with her, she'll lead ya straight."

"You sound sure of yourself." Guy mocked harshly, deeply unsettled by this old woman's insight.

"Wolves need t'be in a pack." She explained, petting the sleeping head of Carwyn, who lay at her feet, "T'be alone means death." She sighed, "When ye hear a wolf howling away at the sky, that's a lone 'un crying for his family. Ye," she pointed to him, "an yer pretty one are both loners. If ye don't stay together ye'll be lost for as long as ye live."

"I'm not lost, and she's not mine." He sounded almost regretful of this last fact, "She'll recover soon and she'll leave."

"Ye do not know that."

"But I do." Guy nodded, "She does not know me. When she learns, when she....sees me as I am...she will want to leave."

"Ye think ye are such a wretched man? What if she understands?" The woman suggested.

"I have no hopes for such understanding."

"Then perhaps, my wolf, 'tis time ye did."

***

The fire light was no longer such a harsh and intrusive glow to Meg as she opened her eyes. She gave a light sigh, she was surrounded by blankets and she felt so wonderfully warm she hesitated to move. Her wound still pained her, but the shock of it was leaving her. She could not yet sit up on her own, but she managed to raise up her arm, so that she might rub the sleep away from her eyes. She yawned and buried herself down against the warm bed.

Suddenly, she became aware that she was being watched. She tilted her head over to one side and gave a great gasp as she came eye to eye with the viciously curious gaze of Carwyn. The great black wolf was sitting right across from her, he had padded over when he heard the strange sound of her yawning. Having never heard the formally silent figure utter a sound he had not been particularly interested, but now the creature had sighed and had moved! Carwyn had deemed it time to investigate this new addition to his dominion.

Meg froze, her eyes wide. She had never seen such an animal before, at least, never alive. This great black monster looked far more fitting guarding the gates of Hell rather than standing vigil over the bed of a wounded woman. She wanted to look away from the wolf's dark eyes, but if she tore her gaze away she feared what the beast would do to her. She tried to inch herself away from the wolf.

Carwyn delivered a rumbling growl of suspicion, his jowls raising only slightly, but it was enough to give Meg a perfect view of his white fangs. She stopped moving immediately and soon Carwyn's growling stopped.

"You going to eat me, then?" She gave a little laugh, swallowing her fears.

Carwyn cocked his head to one side as if trying to understand what the woman was saying to him. Meg managed a smile, he looked like just a regular dog when he made such a face at her. "What do you want then?" She whispered.

Carwyn dipped his head another growl in his throat. Suddenly, a rustling under the blankets caused him to rise to his feet in surprise. Meg's hand appeared out from under the blankets and she let her arm hang down from the side of the bed. She wiggled her fingers at the wolf and he took three steps backwards. "Some fierce thing you are." She snickered, and then winced as the laughter jarred her wound, "You're just frightened."

The wolf was now on his guard, his tail held high and his ears flattened against his head. His muzzle crinkled in a silent snarl. "I'm not going to hurt you." Meg said encouragingly. "As long as you aren't going to hurt me." She turned her hand palm outwards, facing the startled Carwyn. She had often seen the hunting dogs kept at the Castle, and she recalled that their handlers would often extend their hands to the dogs and this always seemed to make them less skittish.

With frightfully slow grace, Carwyn took a step towards Meg. He kept his head lowered. His movements were stilted, and he seemed to be waiting for the right excuse to attack her. Meg did nothing to further excite the creature. He padded back towards her and cautiously sniffed at the offered hand. The cold nose was quite a surprise to Meg and her fingers twitched involuntarily. Carwyn sprang away. He gave a sneeze and pawed at his muzzle.

"Bless you." Meg giggled.

Her gaze veered away from the great wolf as she realized that, at the moment, she was in no great danger. She smiled as she saw Guy asleep in one of the wooden chairs, his head upon his arms as he half rested them upon the table. She wished she possessed enough strength to leave the bed and at least place one of the warm blankets about him. He looked rather cold. Ridiculous thought, she shook her head, the cavern was quite warm.

Suddenly, her view of Guy was blocked by the rather insistent form of Carwyn. He dipped his head and nudged her hand, trying to get it so that it was positioned atop his furry head. Surprised and oddly pleased by this, Meg obliged the wolf with a light pat. Carwyn leaned over her, sniffing her face and neck. He gave a quick little approving snort, blowing some of Meg's hair down about her face. She couldn't help but laugh at that. Carwyn licked her face. This one was to his liking, the wolf seemed to decide.

"Quite enough of that." Meg said, trying to gently nudge Carwyn away, "Right, I like you too, you may stop trying to drown me now. Come on, get off!"

"Get away from her!" Guy's raspy cry startled both Meg and the wolf.

Carwyn whirled about with a bark. Guy had come awake at the sound of Meg's voice. Seeing only the shape of the wolf looming over her and Meg seemingly trying to push him away he had surmised he had been trying to hurt her. He grabbed for his sword and leapt to his feet. Carwyn crouched down low, in a fighting stance. He could sense the man's anger and panic and it was putting him on edge.

"Guy!" Meg cried out.

Carwyn snarled again, sidestepping Guy. He could still smell the blood stains upon the girl's clothing even through the blankets. This one was hurt. This one was a good one.

"Put the sword down, ye great idiot!" The old woman shouted over the din of Carwyn's barking.

"It was trying to hurt her, I saw it!" Guy shouted back, not heeding the old woman's advice.

"And ye think frightening the poor beast is the way t' be solving things, eh?"

"He wasn't hurting me!" Meg piped up as best she could.

"But--" Carwyn gave a final warning bark before rearing back and making a short jump at Guy. Guy backed up a pace swinging the sword down trying to strike the wolf, but Carwyn dodged out of harms way with a nimble leap.

"Stop, Guy!" Meg called out, nearly thinking he had struck the wolf.

"He thinks ye mean the girl harm! Put the sword down!" The old woman demanded.

"Please, Guy....I'm not hurt, look!"

For one moment it appeared as if Guy would kill the wolf regardless of what Meg said. The clattering of the sword against the rocky cavern floor caused Carwyn to take a leap backwards and Meg to exhale deeply in relief. She sunk back against the pillows, the tension leaving her body. Carwyn padded over to the bed once more and sat himself down before it, guarding her like a midnight sentinel.

The old woman's laughter sliced through the icy silence, "Carwyn's taken a shine t' ye, I see."

"Is that his name?" Meg asked.

"Aye, an' a more loyal dog ye'll never meet."

"I thought he was attacking you." Guy muttered darkly.

"Well, maybe you should have thought just a bit longer before slashing your way into things." Meg retorted. She reached out a hand and gave Carwyn a good scratch behind the ears. The wolf titled his head back; tongue lolling out of his terrible jaws in something of a devilish smile.

"Oh, yeah, and what if I had waited only to find out he had been trying to kill you!" Guy snapped back, his anger bubbling to the surface at Meg's taunting.

"I can take care of myself, you know!" She fumed.

"Fine job you've been doing of that too!"

"I didn't have to save your life." Meg gave a short laugh, "Wish I hadn't. Could've saved some other poor fool's life...maybe he would have been more grateful."

There was silence for a moment as Meg's insult hung in the air. The old woman's gaze went from the injured woman to the righteously shamed man who stood with his head lowered and his eyes averted to the floor. Pride barred the two from apologizing to one another. Carwyn gave a small whine as Meg's attention wavered from him. The old woman gave a shrill whistle, startling all three. "Come, Carwyn, ye've caused enough trouble this morning let's see if we can't make ye useful elsewheres." She trundled out of the cave with the wolf following at her heels.

"I am--" Guy began, cutting himself off abruptly. He was unsure of what to say now that he was left alone with Meg. He licked his lips, his gaze flickering from her face to the caver wall opposite her.

"You are...?" She was not going to let him off easy. Stubborn girl.

"I...I am grateful." He mumbled.

"Grateful for what...?" She seemed to be enjoying making him uncomfortable. The smile spreading on her pale face was evidence of the great pleasure she took in goading his temper.

He glared at her. It was a look that most men hoped never to see aimed at them, for it usually meant that someone was bound to die or be punished to within an inch of his life. Meg merely grinned back slyly; challenging the darkness in his eyes. "I am grateful that you saved my life." Each syllable was torn from him with stubborn stiltedness.

"I am grateful you saved mine." It was not Meg's answer which stunned him and succeeded in wiping the glare from his face. It was the gentleness of her tone, the honesty behind it. Such a soft look was quickly replaced by a well guarded expression, "Satisfied?" She asked smugly.

"For now." The growling tone sent a powerful shiver down Meg's spine.

Not wanting to let Guy know how such a simple word from him had nearly undone her she merely shot him a haughty look before pulling the covers up and over herself. Guy could hear her mumbling to herself from underneath the covers, "I think I'd have rather been eaten by wolves than to have to live and endure your company..."

* * *

**A/N: Didn't want to post another chapter until after I had seen ep11. I can't believe we're only an episode away until the finale. **

**Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter, the next update should be following soon and then we start to get into some more action-packed stuff. Some nasty plotting on Isabella's part, some annoying remarks from Kate which cause a fight, Robin being...well, Robin, the presence of a most ominous knight, and...Archer? Oh and one other character that shall not be mentioned, but I'll give you a hint: The character is from S1. Happy guessing.**

**P.S: Guy being a hero vindicates everything I've ever written. Thanks BBC, I don't feel like a hopeless fangirl anymore! Just don't let me down! **


	5. The Betrothed

V

The Betrothed

Sir Warren Garrett was from a family of lesser nobility. As the second son he had gone into the military in hopes that he would earn his fortune, while his elder brother held the family estate; a sizable portion of land near the Norfolk border, given to his father for services rendered to King Richard when he had been campaigning for the throne. While his brother remained comfortably stationed at home he had gone to the Holy Land. Warren was an easy going man, not over given to moments of brooding or temperament, but woe to any who stood in his way when his anger was roused on those few occasions.

Warren did not have a head for ambition, he had not the patience to wait for fortune to work its way towards him, but he did have a love of fortune itself. Not overly satisfied with his lot in the military--hand to hand combat was as grueling as it was onerous--he fell into the seedy task of assassination, a task, he discovered, he did have a natural talent for. The lure of gold and other treasures from the East had proven most seductive. He sold his skills to the highest bidder, it mattered not if they were English or Saracen.

Upon returning to England his circumstances changed very little. He found himself with sizable wealth and an equally powerful backer; Prince John. Warren never asked questions, politics were beyond him. He moved to where he was needed and he never gave a thought unless it involved the planning of another killing. He had been promised land in return for his services, a rather nice reward for his skills, but Warren did not care. He almost enjoyed wandering about the kingdom, not tied down to any estate like his brother.

It had been more to his misfortune then that he had found himself saddled with a betrothed. The father had been persistent, and as the father was quite a wealthy merchant in Nottingham he had thought he would listen. He had met him in London and he had talked of his daughter. He claimed she was one of the mot beautiful women in the shire. He had never really entertained the notion of a wife, but a beautiful wife would be most entertaining. Young too, so the father said. Warren had done a few calculations in his head; if he was to have an estate then he could easily have the wife to tend to it and he could be free to go wherever his business took him, and he would have a pretty, young, girl to warm his bed whenever he returned. It did not seem like bad odds, and Warren never placed a bet unless he was sure to win. Having agreed to the father he had let the man go back to Nottingham to arrange things with his daughter. Warren would follow in due time.

Now as he rode through Nottingham he wondered what exactly would be waiting for him. Would she have blue or green eyes? Brown or golden hair? He wondered what he would prefer, he hadn't thought of it before. He thought of all the other girls he had ever bedded and tried to sift through the ones he had enjoyed the most. Brown hair. He decided. The brown haired girls had been more complacent and he wanted a quiet, obedient wife.

He rode up to one of the finer houses in the town. He glanced down at the bit of parchment in his hand, detailing the name of the street where his betrothed lived. Confident he had found the right place, he dismounted, tethering his horse to a stake just beyond the door he knocked twice in succession.

A haggard looking man answered, but it was undoubtedly the father he had spoken to in London. "Sir Warren!" The man exclaimed nervously, "I was not expecting you for another month at least."

"Well, I am here now." He said. "You've spoken to your daughter?"

"Ah...yes...my daughter..."

"Where is she?" Warren asked roughly as he turned about the rather cramped room. "I want to see what I'm getting. She had best be as you described."

"That is just the matter, she...she isn't here." Clearly the girl's father was dancing about an issue. Warren was not one to speak in circles, nor did he appreciate it when he was being played for a fool.

"Then bring her here." Warren demanded casually.

"If it were at all simple I would, of course do as you asked, Sir Warren, but..."

"But...?"

"She is gone from Nottingham. She threw her lot in with the Sheriff and displeased her, Sir, she was due to be executed but she escaped. Lord only knows where she went." The father wrung his hands together, praying the burly knight saw fit not to remove his head from his neck.

Warren's eyes narrowed, he was not at all pleased. He had ridden for days to Nottingham expecting to find the woman he had been promised ready and waiting for him. He disliked delays. "A man should know how to keep his own daughter under control."

"Sir, it is only what I have been trying to do for that ungrateful wench's entire life." The father protested.

"You speak of your daughter in such a tone?" Warren asked, more curious than caring. His static brown eyes never betrayed a hint of emotion and his rocky, gravely voice held no inflection.

"And why shouldn't I?" The father retorted, feeling slightly emboldened, "Is it my fault she's always been a stubborn bitch? Now that's she practically made herself an outlaw--"

"You speak of the girl that way again I will break your neck." Warren commented as if he had merely been speaking of the weather, or the obviousness of the architecture of the house he was standing in. Something in the whining tone of the father annoyed him. His insults on the girl's character only aggravated it.

Casually, Warren drew forth a small, pointed dagger. It was a single bladed weapon which ended in a fine, needle-point tip. He toyed with the deadly weapon, "You promised me a bride, Bennett, I always get what is promised to me."

Bennett backed into the wall as Warren advanced on him, he cringed, "You're still welcome to her...as...as long as you can find her!"

This almost wrung a reaction from Warren, a bit of laughter was tinged in his monotone voice, "I find anyone I look for." he shrugged, "But, if she refuses me, the price of my efforts will result in your blood." He made a lazy cut into the skin of Bennett's neck, near his collar bone, ignoring the hiss of pain his victim was making he went on, "the longer I look for her, the longer I have to tame her and bring her back, the heftier the blood price. A deal?"

Bennett gulped, "I trust a man like you will find her within the week." He laughed nervously as the dead, cold eyes of Warren continued to stare at him disinterestedly, "I'm sure she'll go with you without trouble once she sees how your mind is."

Warren lowered his dagger and sheathed in, "You had best hope so." In truth he did not care either way. Finding his lost betrothed seemed like a challenging hunt, no different then when he went on a mission to find his next victim. He had no duties to attend to at the moment, he had not been sent after by the Prince, he could afford himself the distraction. He left the Bennett house and returned to his mount. The father was a rather disappointing figure of a man. Even if he did manage to find the daughter, he contemplating killing him anyway, just to satisfy his annoyance of that man.

***

Carwyn had taken to sleeping at the foot of the bed. He curled up about Meg's feet, his head resting gently atop her legs. Although he seemed like a contented and domesticated dog, he was alert for every movement. Guy could hardly get near her now without hearing a warning growl from the wolf. Meg was taking to the wolf almost as much as he was to her. Carwyn rarely left her side and as a result he was often showered with attention from the girl. Unable to leave the bed, she was rather grateful to have someone be willing to stay with her constantly. Guy would not think he was growing jealous of a wolf; however, it seemed lately that all her sweetness had transferred to the wolf while he was left with her biting sarcasm and quipped remarks. He wanted to see that look adoration and affection upon her face again and have it be for him, like it had been the day they had escaped the castle and she thought she had been dying. That may have just been it, then, she had thought she was dying. He was all that was left to her and so she had clung to him. Now that she knew she was on the mend...what use was he to her?

Such thoughts tormented him in a manner he thought impossible. Why should her approval of him matter so much, it was not as if he loved her. She was not Marian, and none of Meg's pretty smiles or affectionate looks could shake Marian's place in his heart. It was merely that Meg had shown him a hint of kindness, enough to supply him with enough spirit to find the will to try and live again. She had been a lifeline. Now that the lifeline was used up she would drift away. Why that formed a crack in his already broken heart he didn't know.

Guy had taken to patrolling about the outside of the cave, clearing it of any soldiers or guards. He had devised ruses to throw any potential trackers deliberately off the trail: a bit of cloth here, a scrap of half eaten food there, a false trail of embers and ash he had taken from the hearth to scatter about as if they were the remnants of a camp fire, all served to keep the soldiers away from the cave and away from Meg.

He returned one evening only to find Meg standing next to the bed. She was pale and out of breath as she clung to the rock wall next to her. Her dress was ripped where the old woman had sought to bandage her wound, and she was barefoot, her shoes over by the hearth. Sweat clung to her brow making her face shine and her hair stick to her head. Carwyn was pacing beside her, whining urgently at her as he nuzzled her legs; even the dog knew she was exerting herself.

"Meg!" Ignoring the growl from Carwyn, Guy moved swiftly to Meg's side. "What do you think you are doing?"

"Walking." She said, masking her pain, "Sitting in that bed...I was starting to go mad....had to try..."

"You're too weak to stand let alone walk." Guy said, his arms half around her as he turned her about to face the bed. He did not touch her, merely hovered over her, ready to catch her if she stumbled. She eased herself back onto the bed with a sigh of relief.

"Here." He reached for a flask sitting on the table, he brought it to her lips, "You're supposed to drink this."

"Are you my physician now?" Meg coughed as she took a swig. She pulled a face, "That's vile. I'm not drinking anymore of that."

"It's to help you, you stupid girl."

"I'm not a stupid girl!" Meg whined, glaring at him.

He smirked at her, "Then drink."

Grabbing the flask out of Guy's hand she downed its contents in a few long draughts. "There," She choked, her face twisted in a look of disgust. She handed Guy the empty flask and he turned to put it back upon the table.

"I was trying to be strong." Guy turned about at the sound of Meg's voice. He eyed her curiously. The girl twirled her fingers about the quilts, toying with a single corner. She bit her lip and there was a flush to her cheeks which betrayed the slightest embarrassment. She caught his glance out of the corner of her eye before ducking her head slightly, "You're bound to be restless. I know you want to leave. I wanted...to go with you."

"Leave?" Guy's brow furrowed at her words, "And where would I go?"

"I don't know." Now Meg seemed visibly flustered, "Anywhere--oh, it was just a stupid thought, go away!"

"First you're afraid of me leaving and now you want me to go away?" Guy was amused at her discomfort, it was no more than how he had felt when she had berated him only a few days ago.

"It's not funny, alright?" Meg scowled, "You're...you're all I have. I don't want to...I didn't...I don't know what I was thinking, can we forget this whole thing?" She faced away from him, staring most intently at the wall beside her, her arms folded.

Guy knelt down beside the bed. If Meg knew he was looking at her she gave no indication of it. Hesitantly, Guy brushed his hand against hers. She looked down at that, watching as his hand sought hers. She uncurled her fingers from about the quilts and allowed him to take hold of her hand. Her lips twitched as if she might smile, but had thought better of it.

"I have no intention of leaving you." Guy said.

Meg looked over at him in half astonishment. "Then what are we to do?" She asked him very seriously.

He sighed, "First," he released her hand, "You need to get better."

"Obviously."

"Then," Guy ignored the snide remark, "then, we can decide where to go from there."

"In other words you don't have a plan at all, do you?"

"No."

"Sounds rather exciting." Meg grinned cheekily.

He was glad she thought so, at least he would not have to deal with a woman who would worry constantly over every little thing. "Will you get some rest now?"

"Yes." Meg sighed reluctantly.

Guy nodded at her, turning to leave to let her have a moment's peace. "Guy!" She suddenly called, sounding quite agitated, "I..."

"What?" He asked her.

Meg looked down. What, indeed? What did she want to tell him, exactly? Her mind rattled with everything that she was keeping secret. What should she say? That she cared for him? That she would never be able to repay him for saving her life? That he was the only friend she had ever made in her entire life? That he made her feel impossibly safe? That her heart plummeted straight out of her soul whenever he looked at her? That it was quite possible that she was coming dangerously close to falling in love with him, and that even now as he stared at her she fancied she had already fallen? Should she tell him all that? Could she?

She shook her head, "Nevermind," she remarked with a rueful smile, "It's not important now."

* * *

**A/N: I know I shouldn't own up to this, but I can't help it. Writing Meg/Guy fluff just brightens my day. I hope reading it has done the same for all of you. :) **


	6. The Pack

**Right, I'm going to be going on vacation starting tomorrow and I won't be back until July 3rd, but I didn't want to leave you all without at least one last update until then. I'm sure I'll be back with a whole bunch of stuff after I watch the finale...I'm almost glad I'll be missing it for a few days, as I'm 99.9 percent certain of how it's all going to end....**

* * *

VI

The Pack

It took another week, but soon, Meg was able to hobble about the cavern. Her strength never held out for long though. She could only manage standing for a few minutes at most before she had to rest again. The going was slow, and Meg was far from satisfied with her progress. She had to be cajoled into resting lest she tire herself or--God forbid--open her wound again. While the old hag chided her frequently whenever she saw that she was walking too fast or pushing herself too hard, it hardly did any good, as Meg seemed determined to ignore her. Carwyn, who always followed on Meg's heels, seemed to have a sense of when Meg was close to over exerting herself. He would bark wildly at her and dance about her legs. The infirm and the sick always gave off a most pungent scent. She would listen to the wolf, oftentimes because his barking would always hurt her ears and resting for a moment or two was the only way to get him to silence himself.

Guy had his own way of handling Meg's stubbornness and it left no room for argument. Words wouldn't work with Meg. She was far too clever of a girl and she always had a sharp retort to offer that would often turn the most simple of suggestions into a heated argument. Guy had learned how to deal with her. He left her no room for words. Seeing her stumble or lean against a wall, even for a moment, and he wouldn't give her a second a chance; he would hoist her off of her feet and carry her back to the bed himself. The first time he had tried such a thing he had almost been shocked at the amount of insults and curses Meg recited at him. The second and third time had merely been amusing, now Guy was beginning to wonder if Meg was purposefully exhausting herself just so she could be carried back to bed by him.

"It's all rather peaceful here, isn't it." Meg sighed, she lay upon the bed, propped up by a few pillows.

Guy, who was sitting on a chair stationed at her bedside, merely shrugged. Meg gave a thin laugh, "Far too boring for you, hm? I know, you'd rather be back in Nottingham; oppressing the people and shouting at the guards."

"The next time I ever set foot in Nottingham again will be to kill my sister." Guy said, cutting off Meg's taunting jokes.

"That's a horrible thing to say." Meg seemed genuinely appalled at the statement.

Guy glanced at Meg, a crooked smile upon his lips as he saw the horrified expression on he face. She really was so very innocent underneath that biting tongue of hers. "Do you know what it's like to be betrayed?" He asked her softly.

"Does being thrown to the mercy of a Sheriff by one's own father count?" Meg snorted bitterly.

"Then you know what it feels like."

"Feels like someone shoved a knife in your heart. Don't get me wrong," she snapped upon seeing a flicker of understanding cross Guy's face, "There isn't any love lost between me and my father, but still...he...he's my father. Just because I despise him doesn't mean I could kill him! Isabella is still your sister. She's your family."

"I have no family." Guy said darkly. "Isabella made her choice. She betrayed me to get into the good graces of the Prince...."

"Much the way you betrayed her and sold her off to that nasty husband of hers?" Meg countered.

Guy glared at her, "You don't understand."

"That's the second time you've told me that." Meg huffed, "Explain it to me, and let me be the judge of what I do or do not understand, then."

Guy shook his head. "You don't know what you are asking."

"I do so."

"No, you don't." Guy snapped, "I know how this will all sound to you. You're mind is made up all ready, even if you don't know it. You don't need another excuse to hate men."

Meg was taken aback at his words. She saw how he had hunched over, his shoulders drooping slightly as if he meant to curl up and hide. His eyes were turned downwards, focusing on the legs of the chair, his hair fell down over his eyes, obscuring his face. She knew what he had really meant to say. _You don't need another excuse to hate me_. How he could think that she could hate him astounded, as well as stung her.

"That is true." She admitted, masking her feelings, "I do hate most men." She could see Guy shrink further into himself, "However, I do not hate you."

Guy looked up at her at that. Meg smiled, "You're my friend, Guy," she began to fiddle with the corner of the quilts again, "And...and while I've never had a friend before, I imagine they aren't supposed to hate one another. I also suspect they tell one another their secrets."

"And what secrets would you tell me, then?" Guy asked.

She shrugged, "I dunno, I could think of a few if you'd like?" She grinned at him, trying her best to coax him out of his dark mood. A light seemed to pass over the shadows in his eyes, and Meg took that as a sign that she had won him over. He looked away to collect his thoughts and when his eyes met hers again they seemed clouded again.

"My parents died when I was only seventeen. Isabella was just ten. We were left with nothing."

"Nothing!" Meg exclaimed, "But you're Sir Guy of Gisborne. What happened to Gisborne, then?"

"We weren't English enough to be accepted by those in Gisborne." Guy said derisively, "And I soon found out my sister and I weren't French enough to be accepted by our mother's people."

"You lived in France?"

"If you think scrapping a living with nothing is living, then yes. I took any work given to me. Stable lad, messenger boy....thief...whatever kept us alive. When Isabella was thirteen I found her work at a tavern. She met Squire Thornton there and he took a liking to her. He was of more than comfortable means and standing. He didn't care that she had no dowry to speak of. When he asked for her he offered me money....more than enough to buy passage back to England."

"So you sold her to him for a few coins?"

"No, I sold Isabella so that she wouldn't die like a dog in the street!" Guy found himself shouting, "He was willing to pay for a bride he need not go through the trouble to buy. He had money. I assumed she would be able to live a comfortable life with him. Thornton offered enough money for me to come back to England and restore everything I had lost. How was I to know that she would be made miserable by her husband? It was the only opportunity either of us had..."

"You should tell Isabella this."

"No, it's too late for that. And I am not sorry for it. If that seems harsh to you, Meg, I can not apologize for it. I did what I had to do."

"I understand." Meg said.

"You do?" Guy could not keep such astonishment out of his voice.

"Well...maybe not really." Meg admitted, "But I promise to try."

"Thank you." It was all Guy could manage to say, although he felt himself nearly bursting to say so much more to her. So she did not understand or accept his judgement or his past just yet, it seemed to matter so much more that she would try to. Not even Marian had offered him such a thing. He wasn't certain what to do with such newfound trust.

A keening shout from outside the cavern startled the both of them. Carwyn's ears perked up and he let out an answering bark and tore out of the cavern. "Carwyn!" Meg gasped, as if hoping to call him back to her.

Even from inside the cave Guy could hear the sound of weapons being drawn. "Stay here." He whispered to Meg as he unsheathed his sword, "And keep quiet."

"Guy!" She hissed, "Be careful!"

He nodded to her and quickly hurried from the cave. He crept along the narrow passageway, straining his ears for the slightest sound. He could hear quite plainly the frantic barking and snarling of Carwyn and the rather surprised yelps from the supposed intruders. Guy would have no time to calculate the situation, for as soon as Guy would be able to properly see the attackers they would certainly see him as well. There was nothing for it. He burst out of the cave, sword at the ready. There were five men, and Guy recognized by their livery that they were Isabella's soldiers. Carwyn already had one of the men pinned down, his jaws were clamped down upon the unfortunate's neck and he was tearing into him, trying to get past the chainmail which barred him from biting into the flesh. It mattered not though, the sheer strength of the wolf's jaws was serving to suffocate the soldier.

The old woman was trying to fend the men off with her wooden staff, and for a rather ancient looking woman there seemed to be life her old bones yet. Guy struck out at the first soldier; who, caught completely by surprise was cut down quickly. Carwyn, having strangled his first prey, leapt onto the back of another soldier. This served as the perfect distraction and while the soldier was trying to knock the wolf off of him Guy ran him through.

With the element of surprise wearing off the remaining three soldiers were able to group together to defend themselves. The old woman cackled, briefly reaching down and petting the head of the snarling wolf who was now standing beside her, "Knew ya'd come in handy one o' these days, ye great bully."

Guy ducked a swipe from one of the soldier's swords, regaining his footing he slammed the hilt of his weapon into the man's back. He pitched forward with a grunt of pain. Guy stood over him and brought the point of his sword down into the man's chest. He looked up, Carwyn was defending his owner from the one of the soldiers, who seemed to be regarding the wolf with a bit more caution since witnessing the carnage those jaws could cause.

One soldier had the misfortune of heading in the direction of the cave, obviously keen on discovering if there was anyone else lying in ambush for him. Guy grabbed him and rammed his head against the side of the rocky hill. Meg was inside, and she was in condition to defend herself if this soldier had managed to slip into the cave. Rage fueled his efforts as Guy blindly slammed the soldiers into the rocks again and again. He was brought out of his anger at the sound of a pained yelp from Carwyn.

Dropping the bloody mess of a soldier Guy whirled about. Carwyn had been knocked aside by the remaining soldier and had a bloody gash upon his flank. The wolf could only let out a frustrated howl as the soldier advanced on the old woman. Guy knew he had realized the danger too late as the man came forward. Even as he moved to run the man through he knew that the soldier had already succeeded in stabbing the woman. The old woman fell backwards even as her attacker dropped to the floor; dead.

Carwyn padded over to his owner, whining slightly as he nuzzled for her to get up. Guy knelt down beside the old woman. She looked up at him through half closed eyes. Her breath came in short, heaving gasps. She managed a thin and crooked grin, "Turned out all right, didn't ya?"

Carwyn placed his head upon the woman's stomach, curling up against her. His owner chided him, "Ye great ball o' fluff, quit yer whining."

Guy placed a hand over the wound in the woman's side. "I can get you back inside. I..."

"Why? So I can die in the dark?" She coughed. "Let it be, wolf." She patted his hand lightly. "Worse ways o' dying...protecting yer mates. You'll watch over the pretty one, eh?"

Guy nodded slowly. This woman had saved his life twice. She had never sought is gratitude or recognition. He had brought the soldiers upon her, it was his fault.

"'Ain't yer fault." The woman said, obviously his guilt must have been telling, "Ye blame yerself for everything, no need t' add this t' yer conscience." She gave a little sigh, "Best get back to yer pretty one...she'll be worried for ya."

"But..."

"Me an' Carwyn 'ave been on our own for many a year. Leave me be now." The woman seemed rather content to die along in the forest with her wolf by her side.

Guy rose to his feet, reluctant to let this woman die alone. He fought to word his thanks to her for saving his life, for saving Meg's, but he found himself tongue tied. The old woman blinked up at him. "Do as I say now." She chided as if she was speaking to an unruly child before she closed her eyes, the only sign that she had an ounce of life in her was by the fact that her hand still moved to stroke the black head of the now docile wolf at her side.

Guy walked to the mouth of the cavern, the darkness engulfed him as he moved down the passageway back into the cavern. He didn't care what the old woman had said. It was his fault. Everything he touched he killed. She had wasted her last breaths wishing him well and thinking him a good man. She did not know of the murderer she praised.

Guy gasped as he felt arms wrap themselves about him. "Thank God," It was Meg, she had climbed out of her bed and hobbled over to the entrance of the cavern, peering down the narrow path which led out into the light. She had heard the fighting and for a few tedious minutes had stayed alone in the dark wondering what had been going on. Out of sheer relief she instinctively clung to him.

Guy stood rooted to the spot as Meg embraced him. Of course she never would have listened to him when he had told her to stay put. Before he could place his own arms about her she sprang away from him, as if she had realized what she had just done, "Are you alright?" she asked him, her face turning a rather bright shade of red.

His arms had been half raised as he had hoped to hold her, now he lowered them back down to his side rather disappointedly, "Soldiers from the castle," he explained in low tones, "they attacked the old woman."

"Oh no...is she...?"

"She's dead." She would be by now.

Meg covered her mouth with her hand, horrified. Guy had no time to console her, "We have to leave."

"What?"

"It's not safe here anymore, you think Isabella won't notice that five members of her guard are dead? She'll send more." Guy busied himself with planning their escape.

"Guy..."

"We can leave Nottingham; go anywhere where she can't find us. You can get better and then..." He was rushing about the little cavern, grabbing blankets and meager supplies to aid them in their unplanned escape.

"Guy, stop." Meg tried to calm him, but there seemed to be no reaching him.

"No. If we stay she will find us. I won't let her kill you!" He whirled on her, eyes wild with unseen panic.

"I know." Meg hushed as she placed a comforting hand upon his arm. "But rushing about in a panic will not get us anywhere."

Guy lowered his head, "Forgive me." he muttered.

Meg merely gave a look which read clearly that she already had. She took the blankets out of Guy's hands, folding them into her own. "Grab the bow and those arrows. They could be useful later." She suggested. "We can head for Kirklees Abby, we'll be safe there."

Guy slung the bow across his back and took the three arrows, he would need to make more later, but the bow and the sword would prove enough protection for now. Meg was right. The Abby would be enough of a sanctuary for them. He turned to her, and she gave him a small nod and headed for the passageway. She walked unsteady on her feet. Guy placed a hand upon her back to keep her stead. She looked up at him with a small smile and Guy felt his mad panic fade. How she managed to calm he would never know.

Once outside, Meg dropped her bundle of supplies and walked over to the body of the old woman. Carwyn was still sitting beside her, but he turned when he saw Meg. He nuzzled her hand with a small whine. "I never got to thank you," She whispered, "for saving my life."

"Meg," Guy urged, feeling awkward standing behind Meg as she whispered her good-byes, "Meg, we need to go."

"We have to bury her." She said, "It isn't right to just...leave her. We can't!"

For a moment Guy looked as if he would object, but he gave a small nod to her. A proper burial was the least they could do for her. Guy dug a shallow grave with the sword, while Meg took one of the blankets and draped it over the woman like a shroud. They buried her in complete silence. Meg placed a small stone over the head of the grave to mark the site. "She never told me her name." She remarked to Guy sadly, "Did she...?"

He shook his head. "Come on." He said gently, taking her hand to lead her away. "We need to be well clear of this place by nightfall."

Meg nodded and rose shakily to her feet. Guy paused, afraid she might not have the strength to walk until they could find shelter. She waved him away, defiantly insisting she was all right, nevermind that she was short of breath, or the sweat that was beginning to form on her brow.

A shrill bark drew both of their attentions back to the grave. Carwyn bounded over to the two of them. "I think he wants to come with us." Meg gave a little laugh.

"No." Guy said flatly.

"But..."

"I said no." Guy shrugged the bow up further onto his back and began to walk down the forest path.

"He's coming with us." Meg insisted, signaling for Carwyn to follow at her heels.

"Meg..."

"He leaves I leave." Meg said simply, "By far I prefer the wolf over you anyway."

"Fine." Guy growled, "But only until we reach the Abby."

"Fine." Meg huffed, and just to spite him she forced herself to walk on ahead of him, proving that she was in complete command of the situation.

Carwyn gave a little bark at Guy and trotted off after Meg. _Perfect_, Guy thought sullenly, _now even the wolf is mocking me...

* * *

_

**A/N: A little angst and a little humor. Yes, this story does start to get quite serious now, as obviously Guy has to have a run in with Hoodie Boy and learn about his past. How does Meg tie into everything? You'll just have to wait and see...oh and there is still one more character to meet. Who could it be? **


	7. Travel Interrupted

VII

Travel Interrupted

Warren turned one of the dead soldiers over with his boot. He grimaced at the sight of the blood and mud stained corpse. He kicked the body away and it rolled over again; limbs splaying out in a most undignified manner. Warren gave a sniff and looked back up at the rest of the dead surrounding him. Based upon the wounds, Warren guess most men had met their end by sword or dagger. Judging from the position of the bodies whatever had killed them had taken them by surprise, as there was no organization. A few of the wounds; however, intrigued the knight. He knelt down beside one of the bodies. This one had no wounds upon him to speak of, yet he was most assuredly dead. He began to fumble with the chainmail about the soldier's neck. There was only one way to kill a man without leaving any blood behind.

Strangulation. Warren held down the chainmail to glance at the soldier's neck. There were punctures into the skin, but the man's armor had prevented whatever had gotten a hold of him to draw blood. Warren examined the unique wounds. What manner of weapon could make such a marking? It wasn't a weapon at all. More like fangs. A wolf? Why would a wolf or any creature attack a man? Curious circumstance to be sure.

His horse whinnied nervously. The smell of the dead beginning to aggravate the animal's senses, but Warren was not interested in leaving this scene just yet. In the center of all the bloodshed there was a mound of dirt. A grave, and a hastily constructed one at that. This was most unusual. He squinted hard at the ground, blood splatters were everywhere. A satisfied grin spread across his face. The blood seemed to lead off and away from the carnage and into the forest; providing a perfect trail in which to follow the possible culprits. How fortuitous. Perhaps if he caught up with the outlaws he could ask of the whereabouts of his missing betrothed. Better still perhaps this trail would lead him right to her. Of course if the murderer or murderers were unwilling to help him he could always provide his own justice. The day was shaping into a most productive one indeed.

He mounted his horse and turned it away from the scene and rode off at a moderate trot down the path. Keeping a keen eye on the blood trail before him.

***

It was at least another hour before nightfall when Meg collapsed. The rag-tag trio had been walking at a decently swift pace for the better half of the day. Meg had been tired long before she had fallen, but she hadn't dared said a word. The wound in her side felt as if it had been lit on fire. The pain seemed to spread into her legs and try as she might to ignore it, eventually her exhaustion won out.

"Meg!" Even given the pain she was in she could not help but take comfort in the amount of concern in Guy's shout.

"I'm fine." She said as she tried to rise to her feet. Pain shot from her wound, the suddenness of it caused a cry to be wrung from her lips. She sunk back down, holding her side. The next instant she was lifted into Guy's arms.

She couldn't hide the laughter in her voice, "Aren't you getting tired of carrying me?"

"Would you rather I leave you behind?"

She laughed and contented herself with resting against him as he walked on. "How much further to the Abby?" She asked him.

"I don't know." He said honestly, "I've never been this deep in the forest before."

"Don't tell me we're lost." Meg groaned.

"I never said that." Guy said reassuringly, "We'll have to rest nearby for the night. We should find the Abby tomorrow."

"Why couldn't I have escaped with a man with a sense of direction?" Meg sighed.

"You should learn to lower your expectations of people." Sarcasm laced Guy's words.

"Or you should learn to raise people's expectations." That silenced him. She seemed to have a talent for this. They had only been in one another's company for a few weeks and already she knew exactly what to say to give him cause to think, even in the most unthoughtful of conversations.

Carwyn gave a pathetic whine and crouched down to the ground, slowly easing himself to the floor. "I think he's tired." Meg said, "He's not the only one." She yawned.

"Fine, we can stop here for the night." Guy was far from happy to end their travels earlier than he wanted, but there was nothing he could do about it. Meg may be making light of the situation, but she could not mask the very real and very sharp pain she was so obviously feeling. He set her down against a sturdy trunk of a gnarled ash tree. Close to the trunk, a large root lay slightly above the surface, curving back down in a hump into the ground. It served as the perfect nook for Meg to nestle herself against.

Guy sat down beside her. He peeled apart the torn folds of her dress to where the bandage wrapped about her stomach. Meg tried to swat him away. "What do you think you're doing?"

"You could have torn a stitch." He explained, "I just want to make sure you don't start to bleed again."

At that she let him go back to examining her. She tried not to blush as she felt his hands upon her. Even through the bandages she could feel the warmth of his touch. She cleared her throat, "Well?"

"You're fine." Guy announced, moving away from her. Meg wished he would remain close to her.

Carwyn padded his way over to his new owners, lying down before them. He curled himself into a ball as he began to lap at the gash on his flank. The blood from his wound had since dried, but that did not stop the wolf from attempting to tend to his injury. Guy frowned as he watched Carwyn. "How long has he been bleeding?" He asked Meg.

She merely shrugged, "I don't know. Probably since we left the cave."

Guy stood up and walked over towards Carwyn. His eyes followed the way they had come from. Squinting, he could see small flecks of blood leading down and away into the forest. Guy cursed under his breath.

"What is it?" Meg asked.

"Your wolf has left a blood trail."

"What?"

"Carwyn's blood!" Guy accused, "It leads back to the cave all the way here." He gestured wildly. "Which means--"

"Someone could follow it!" Meg gasped, catching on. "Oh God, what are we going to do?!"

"_We_ are not going to do anything. You are going to stay here and rest. I will take care of this."

"But--"

"For once, Meg, don't argue with me." Guy sighed. He unrolled the blanket they had carried from the cave and draped it over her. He tucked Meg against the trunk and the root of the tree as if he was putting her to bed. He then grabbed the bow and took one of the three arrows, just in case. Meg eyed him worriedly.

"I shouldn't be long, but if I am, stay here for the night. If I don't come back by morning continue on to the Abby. I'll find you there."

"But I can't make it there by myself." Meg protested.

"Yes you can." Guy insisted with a smirk. "And you will if you have to." He knelt down beside her, "Don't worry. I only need to throw off the trail slightly. I'll be back before you can think of new insults for me." That drew a small smile from her.

Meg grabbed Guy's arm before he could turn to leave her. "Guy!" As he turned back to face her Meg raised herself up to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, "Be safe." She whispered.

His eyes widened at the feel of her lips upon his face. He had not been expecting that. "I will be." He found himself whispering to her. He brushed a few strands of hair from her face reveling in the hidden look of affection in Meg's eyes. There was a wealth of unspoken words in that look. He would have no choice now, but to make sure he stayed safe so that he could return to hear what she had to say to him.

He left her with reluctance. Shouldering the bow and checking to make sure the sword he had stolen from the scabbard of one of the dead soldiers was still at his side; he set out, nervous energy rattling through him, causing his hands to shake. He hated leaving Meg alone in the woods by herself. A long howl echoed about the darkening forest. At least Meg still had Carwyn. He would keep her safe, and that was all that mattered.

***

There was a small group of soldiers riding along beneath a hillside. Warren dismounted and led his horse quietly along the ridge of the hill, keeping watch. There were only four of them, three soldiers and a lady. Looping the reigns of his horse about a tree, Warren slid down the hillside, dodging and weaving his way behind tree to tree in his attempt to get closer to the group.

"What do you mean there's no sign of them!" The woman was berating the three men, "I've sent three patrols of men to scout this forest and you're saying that there is no _sign_ of them?!"

This was a most interesting development. Who was this woman searching for? Could it be they were looking for the same person? In a moment of excitement, Warren leaned forward, peering around the trunk of a tree. A few twigs and leaves crunched underfoot alerting the soldiers and the woman of his presence.

The woman looked up at him startled, her harsh and jaded eyes wide with momentary fright. Upon seeing that her intruder was only one man her expression shifted to lazy disturbance. "Seize him." She ordered quiet calmly.

The three soldiers advanced. Warren cursed his stupidity and drew his sword. It mattered not, he was outnumbered and he was not the most skilled with a blade. Figuring it would be better to live and explain oneself than die like a fool he flung his sword to the ground and raised his arms up behind his head as he stepped out. His arms were grabbed by one of the soldiers and he was led over to the stern eyed woman.

"You are not one of Hood's men." She sniffed, "I don't recognize you."

Warren could only suppose that she was referring to Robin Hood. He gave a small chuckle at that, "I am not, my lady." He said, wisely addressing her respectfully. She had shown command over these three soldiers, she was surely a woman of some means and power.

"Then who are you?"

"My name is Sir Warren Garrett, my lady. I am a knight in the service of Prince John." The name gave him protection wherever he went. He could not mask the glimmer in his eyes at the shock this gave to the lady. She dismounted from her black steed almost immediately. He was expecting a forthcoming apology for his treatment when he found a dagger pressed to the side of his neck.

"Prove it." She hissed.

"If my lady will permit me..." He wriggled his arms a bit to show that he could prove nothing while he was being held.

"Release him." The lady ordered and at once Warren found his arms under his own control once more.

Very slowly to show that he meant no harm, and so as not to jar the blade digging into the sensitive skin of his neck, be brought his hands down to his sword belt. A small leather purse, almost the size of a pocket was attached to the side of the belt. He opened it and pulled out a simple ring bearing the Prince's insignia. The lady snatched it from his hands at once. She examined carefully as if expecting it to be a trick of some kind. She lowered the blade from his throat and handed him back the ring which Warren once again pocketed securely.

"Forgive me, Sir Warren, but I had to be sure. One can never be too careful these days." She smiled and Warren was reminded of a wolf.

"It is understandable and it is to your credit that you are so cautious." Warren said honestly.

"This still does not solve the matter of what you were doing spying on me and my men." She remarked, still toying with her dagger.

"I can say honestly that it was by circumstance alone that I found you. It was not my intention to pry into your business, my lady, but I thought you might have found something I was looking for." Warren said, crossing his arms. "You see I am searching for a woman who was said to have escaped from Nottingham not but a few weeks ago."

The woman raised an eyebrow, "How intriguing. What would such a woman be to you?"

"My betrothed. Her name is Meg Bennett."

Warren was shocked to find that this caused laughter in the woman. "Meg Bennett? How fortuitous indeed."

"You know the girl?" Now it was Warren's turn to be surprised.

"Yes, she escaped along with my brother."

"So I see we were both heading towards the same general goal." Warren said.

"If I had men capable of discovering a trail." She rolled her eyes.

"Then it is lucky we found one another, my lady--"

"You found a trail?!"

"Yes; whether or not it leads me to the girl or to your brother or to anyone I do not yet know. I find it worth exploring."

"And what if you do not find the girl?" She was seeking his motives.

"If it leads me to another I will find if such a person could give me information on where to go next." He shrugged.

"And if such a person is less than cooperative?"

"No one is uncooperative with me, my lady." Warren said and he realized that this was exactly what the lady wanted to hear.

"I think you could be useful to me, Sir Warren." She announced with a sly tone hiding in her voice. As if she was already calculating how she could use him to any advantage of hers.

"Could I?" He said warily. "And who exactly would I be useful for?"

She smiled, "Lady Isabella, Sheriff of Nottingham." Her grin intensified as she saw Warren's eyes widen at that. "And I'll make you a deal, Sir Warren."

"What would that be?" A deal meant a reward, and he was always eager for that.

"Meg Bennet and my brother, Guy of Gisborne escaped together. Chances are if you find one you'll find the other. If you work with me I'll give you the proper means to hunt them down." Isabella said silkily.

"What's the price?" Warren grunted.

"Oh no price, Sir, I could use smart and able bodied men like you. If you help me I guarantee your rewards will be plentiful."

Warren let out a short laugh. Did this woman think he would give her his aid under such vague circumstances? He made deals with devils daily. A feat he would not be able to accomplish if he let the first greedy and short-sighted lord or lady trap him with promises unknown. "Define how plentiful such rewards would be, my lady."

"Lands, perhaps."

He shook his head, "I don't care for lands."

"Two-hundred gold crowns." Isabella said immediately.

"Hefty price." Warren nodded.

"I reward good service and loyalty as you will soon find if you decide to join with me."

He eyed her critically as he weighed his options. He could refuse, he did better alone than commanding a troop of bumbling soldiers. Then again, did he have a choice or was this an ultimatum? He tried to read the hidden expressions in the cunning woman's eyes. He nodded slowly as he understood. Her soldiers were still standing behind him, they hadn't moved since this conversation started. Without even turning around he wagered they had their hands upon the hilts of their sword blades, just waiting for a nod from their lady. He smiled with false good humor. "We have a deal, my lady."

She smiled as well, it was a devilish grin and Warren found that he could come to admire such a cunning woman. She had successfully outsmarted him and he was not so above giving praise where it was due. She held out her hand and he clasped it in his. She had a firm grip. Warren could almost feel deception leaking from it. "Welcome to Nottingham, Sir Warren."

* * *

**A/N: Right, so we've run into events leading up to the start of ep10. I'm not sure if it's obvious so I'm just mentioning it. I never really did figure out how Guy had a bow and a sword at the start of that episode. So...now we know, eh? XD **

**Anyway, Isabella is actually quite fun to write as she's by far different from the average baddie on RH. The writers were out of their minds reducing her to a Disney villain. I half expected her to start spouting, "Mirror mirror on the wall who's the fairest of them all?" I don't like one dimensional characters so I plan on fleshing out Isabella more, as I thought the writers were going to do...but...alas. **

**Hope you are still enjoying this story! Much more to come soon! :)  
**


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